Turn Me On
by bexie25
Summary: Edward Cullen, well-known author, prepares for the release of his newest novel. During the last minute re-shoot of his book's cover, he feels an immediate attraction to the model and invites her to his Launch Party. Will he act on his desires? OS, M. Contribution to Fandom for Mexico.


**Hi everyone!**

**So here's a little oneshot I donated to the Fandom for Mexico at the end of last year. We've been able to post these since the 1st, but I completely missed it because I've been so busy. Alas, here it is now and I hope you enjoy.**

**You can find the banner on facebook in my group's photo albums or with the link below.**

**I hope you like this...**

**See you down the bottom.**

* * *

**Pen Name: **bexie25

**Title: **Turn Me On

**Rating: **M/NC17

**Beta: **Chandrakanta

**Link to banner: **s1108. /user/bexie25/media/Banners%20for%20Stories/TurnMeOnbanner_ .html?sort=3&o=0

**Banner by:** Chandrakanta

**Warnings: **Adult language (swearing), lemon

**Summary: **Edward Cullen, well-known author, prepares for the release of his newest novel. During the last minute re-shoot of his book's cover, he feels an immediate attraction to the model and invites her to his Launch Party. Will he act on his desires?

**~O~**

I killed the engine and got out of the car, cradling my phone between my ear and my shoulder. I rolled my eyes as I walked toward the lift, pressing the lock key and watching as the orange car lights flashed against the cement.

"Yes, thank you, Lauren," I said coolly, pressing the button to the elevator. I put my keys in the pocket of my grey slacks, ignoring the woman on the other line as she prattled on about the commitments I had.

"Sir, I don't think this is wise," she droned on. I frowned, my face screwing up in disgruntlement as I stabbed at the button again a few times. I checked my watch. _Shit._ They'd have just started. "_Turn Me On_ is going to be published in twenty-four hours—"

"Thank you, Lauren," I repeated, my irritation both at my personal assistant's lecture and at the fucking parking lot elevator bleeding through in my voice. "But I am well aware of my personal commitments. I _know _that I have a meeting with the editor in half an hour and I _also _know how crucial it is for me to be there. It is _my book_ that is going to be published in under forty-eight hours and so I know of every _single _necessary change that has only been presented to me now. However, as you well know, I like to make it a point to be there when the book's cover is being shot—or reshot in this case—and I have done so since my first book was published six years ago."

"But, sir—"

"Thank you, Lauren, that is all," I said, ending the call before she could object. Do not get me wrong, Lauren was an excellent assistant—there were just some times where she seemed to think she knew better than me, when she felt the need to lecture me about the importance of something-or-other.

I snorted to myself, lifting my hand to my tie. Loosening it just a bit, I unbuttoned the button pressing against my throat, drawing in a deep breath as I did so. Finally, the ding of the elevator sounded and the doors opened. It was empty, and I walked through and pressed the button.

"Hold the door!" I heard a female voice shout, and I sighed and pressed the button to keep the doors open. A few seconds later, a short whirl of brunette hair and casual clothing flurried in.

"Thank you," she panted lightly as the doors closed.

I cleared my throat, and nodded down at her once. "Floor?" I murmured, inclining my head toward the array of buttons next to the metal doors.

She glanced at them. "Same as you," she said before turning her attention back to the bag she had slung on her arm. She seemed to search vigorously through it before her hand pulled back to reveal lip gloss. I looked away as she applied it, up to watch as the lit up numbers jumped higher and higher as we passed each floor.

The shoot was in the penthouse of a very tall apartment block, so I was assuming this woman was perhaps one of the under hands of the photographer—Rosalie Hale. She was my photographer for everything; she had quite the artistic eye, and she knew what looked good on billboards, book covers, anything and everything I would be invested in.

I was well known as an author, so I could only work with the top notch of the business. And Rosalie was above them all.

She was also a very good friend and my sister-in-law.

The doorbell dinged, and both the woman and I stepped forward at the same time.

"Sorry," we said in unison, and I stepped back, motioning for her to go first. She smiled in thanks and did so and I followed her out.

"Isabella, where have you been?" Rosalie's furious voice rang through the hall. "You were supposed to be here half an hour ago. Whatever, I need you in the dressing room—now."

Isabella nodded once at my sister-in-law and I smirked as she scurried through. I faintly heard Rosalie muttering about "fucking tardies." She looked up at me then and plastered a pleasant smile on her face. "Edward."

"You all right there, sis?" I asked her with a smirk.

"Peachy," she spat out as she walked down the rest of the hall with me. "We're gonna start late."

"I heard," I replied nonchalantly as we walked into a completely open space. The sun was beaming in throughout the room, the bay doors open and the wispy, sheer curtains blew through the air in soft ripples. The room was plastered in mostly white, apart from one black wall. It was perfect. "Nice," I said appreciatively as we stopped and slowly turned to face one another.

"I'm so sorry," she started sincerely. She looked so stressed, her blonde hair, tied back in a ponytail, whipping through the air as she shook her head agitatedly and began to pace, mouthing off in a continuous low mutter. "Fucking Isabella—she's always late, that one..."

"Go easy on her," I encouraged, gripping her shoulders when she was in front of me, about to turn for the fifth time.

She snorted. "Not likely." She shook out of my light hold and her heels clicked hastily against the white, marble floor as she walked toward the hall again. "Two minutes, ladies!"

"You expect Isabella to get your model ready that fast?" I asked her with a laugh. Even the most experienced in this business struggled with that.

She smirked. "No, I expect her to _be _ready that fast."

I opened my mouth just as Isabella walked out again. Her hair, out and wavy, went past her shoulders and down to her waist. Her full lips were pouty, her eyes smoky and surrounded by long, alluring lashes. If that wasn't enough, the midnight blue sheer, lacy nightgown highlighted her gorgeous hour-glass figure and set off her über-pale skin in a way that made me want to grab her and…

_Fuck me_.

I cleared my throat and looked away, trying to calm my body's reaction. In that short glimpse, my eyes had taken in every detail that I had neglected to see before in the elevator, and I could only say that she was truly beautiful.

I throbbed painfully in my grey slacks, already at full mast just from the visuals that repeated in my mind over and over. I barely even heard Rosalie as she started ordering Isabella around. I swallowed, took a deep breath, and turned around, chanting shit in my head to calm my cock down.

_Dirty clothes… _those tits… _Grandma's underwear… _fuck; that figure of hers… her hair wrapped around my hand as I fucked her…

Not working.

I closed my eyes, squeezing them shut and ignoring the flashes of Isabella that play behind my lids. In my mind, I conjure up that one time I saw Grandma in her underwear when I was ten. That shit was fucking scarring, but thankfully always helped in those rare times where I found myself in this position.

_Down, boy._

I sighed in relief as the throbbing and tightening in my balls lessened before disappearing completely as I tried to imagine my grandma without her clothes on. When I opened my eyes again, I could at least concentrate on what was happening around me—I _needed _to be alert for this.

Rose was looking at me with a raised eyebrow, a smirk twitching on her lips. She grinned knowingly at me. "You all right there?" I nodded and walked to her side, making myself not look in Isabella's direction. "Well, good, 'cause I kinda need you on board with this." She turned around to a white tray that was stacked with—from what I could see—photos, manila envelopes, and a thick folder. She grabbed the latter and crooked her finger at me, motioning for me to come forward.

I stopped at her side and looked at the folder in her hands as she opened it. There were a few pages of mind maps and snippets of different concepts, colors, and other shit I had no idea of. "Right," she said, shuffling to the table and setting the folder down so she could flip through the rest of the pages. I followed her and stood beside her just as she paused on the last cover we'd had.

"What exactly was wrong with this one?" she asked me, glancing up.

I shrugged. "No fuckin' idea. I went to sleep last night, everything was fine and on schedule. I wake up to today and it's pandemonium."

"Huh, well, that helps me a lot," she drawled sarcastically, snapping the folder shut. She spun around and I stepped back as her long hair nearly whistled through the hair before snapping against her back. She looked up at Isabella. I followed her gaze and swallowed.

Isabella was sitting on the black couch, waiting for instruction while looking out the window. The breeze was drifting through, a relief really—it was damn hot today—and the strength of the wind had her hair wafting behind her.

"Gianna, close the windows," Rosalie said sharply, grabbing her camera. Her minion rushed to do as she asked and I mourned the loss of the ethereal scene that had been before me. Isabella's luscious brown locks fell against her back in an instant, and one of the—I presumed—hairdressers flocked around her, fussing, the makeup artist in tow as they "fixed her up." I scoffed internally; it was ridiculous—she didn't need it.

Rosalie's shoes clicked against the floor as she walked through the set and stood in front of her model. Isabella looked up at her. "You—I want you standing against the wall there." She pointed to the black one and I smiled—my sister-in-law had it perfectly without even one word of discussion between us.

"I understand, Edward," she said, glancing at me. I came closer until I was standing about a meter or so behind her. She was fiddling with the settings on her camera. "I understand that you want the seductive feel of the book displayed on the cover, but I think having just the girl represented is a better idea. I have no clue why they didn't like the first cover, but I definitely have a feeling that this one will be exactly what you wanted from the beginning."

I didn't say it, but I had a feeling she was right. Looking at Isabella as she looked back at me, waiting patiently for Rose to be ready and begin, I knew that she was Kristen, the protagonist, in the flesh.

"Right," Rose said. "Stand just about half a meter in front of the wall, hands down by your side; look down toward your left with your hair down around your shoulders." Rose continued to direct Isabella into the stance she was looking for, and the smile tugging at her lips let me know that we were on track—that she was happy with how this was going. I smiled myself, also happy—this was coming along perfectly, and as Isabella moved with Rose's instructions, more and more of Rose's concept was unveiled to me.

In the beginning of my working relationship with Rose, I hated the way she wouldn't let me get a word in, wouldn't discuss her ideas and concepts beforehand—after all, it was my book, and book covers could determine whether or not a book was bought and read or overlooked and discarded—but after six years, I'd come to realize that Rose knew her shit and the outcome was best when she was in charge. After all, this was her domain, just as writing was mine—and she never got on my case.

I tried to keep my thoughts clean as Bella was manipulated and instructed into seductive pose after seductive pose, but the ache in my loins told me it wasn't helping. Especially when I gave in and, with a look around to make sure no one had cottoned on to my predicament, simply took the opportunity to focus my eyes and attention on the beauty that was Isabella Swan.

My eyes settled on those lovely lips of hers, and I nearly growled as she pouted them, her lips separated just slightly, the ghost of a cheeky smile making her molten chocolate eyes glint. Between shots, she would sneak a quick glance at me—so quick I thought at first it might have been wishful thinking on my part—and her lips would twitch as she'd catch me staring at her. And then she'd simply turn back to the camera and change the position of her arms, slide her thighs further apart, or arch her back, drawing my eyes to the swells of her magnificent breasts. My mouth moistened at the thought of peeling the flimsy, satiny, lacy fabric from her.

And then Rose stepped back, Bella looking down as she took a deep breath and blew it out, her flock of "beautifiers" stepping forward as she sat down on the black couch.

"Right," Rose said, her sharp voice drawing me back to the present. "We're all done," she said, walking over to her computer without so much as a glance my way. She set it down and got to work. I was itching to see the photos, but without a decent reason—I'd never looked at them before, why would I now?—I resigned myself to the knowledge that I'd only be graced with the final cover.

My eyes shifted back to the gorgeous brunette, settling back on her just as she got up. There was no thought, really, just the simple knowledge that I needed to see her again—and I had the perfect opportunity. My hand fluttered to the back pocket of my pants, and I dug out the tickets to the book launch party tonight.

"Isabella?" I called. She looked up at me instantly, and I smiled, motioning with my finger for her to come over. Her brow knitted in confusion before she cleared her expression and nodded once, walking toward me. I forced myself to ignore the innocently seductive sway of her hips, making myself look at her face instead.

"Yes?" she asked.

I cleared my throat, glancing away as my tongue flickered across my bottom lip, wetting it. "I just wanted to thank you for coming as a replacement at such short notice, and I wanted to apologize for the short notice you must have received."

She smiled and nodded. "That's all right, but thank you. I am sorry I was late," she said, her cheeks tingeing pink.

The corners of my lips twitched before blooming into a full blown smile. "Don't worry, I was just as late as you were." She smiled and pursed her lips, but I spoke again before she could say a word. "I was hoping, as a token of my appreciation, that you would accept this ticket?" I asked, looking down as I held the ticket out for her. "It's to the launch party for my book. It's for tonight."

"Oh."

I swallowed and leaned forward a little, licking my bottom lip. "I would really like for you to come, Isabella. Consider it a thank you on my part. Of course, if your hesitancy is due to unavailability, that's fine; I am sure you have plans and I would not like to take up too much of your time. But if you can come, it would be great if you would."

She bit her lip, her brow furrowed as she looked between the ticket in my hand and my face for a few moments. She was obviously thinking—whether it was about my complete and utter unprofessionalism and lack of decorum or something else, I had no idea. I was about to give up hope when she smiled, cleared her throat, and said, "I can come, thank you. It's very kind of you to ask me." She took the ticket from me, and with a last smile and a "thank you again, see you tonight," she was walking off toward the elevator.

I stared after her.

When she was gone, the elevator doors closed, I inhaled sharply and nodded once stiffly.

"Good," I whispered under my breath, nodding as I walked toward the elevator myself. "Good."

**~O~**

I scrubbed my hand over my face as I slammed my car door closed and pressed the button to close the garage door. A day of meetings, negotiations, and a complete overhaul of the book's cover had me agitated and fucking tired. I almost wanted to say "fuck it" and not show up to the book launch, but I stopped myself for two reasons: one—Lauren, my family, and the rest of my team would kill me and two—I really wanted to see Isabella again.

Walking through the front door, I toed out of my shoes and left them beside the door. I smiled as I walked further into the house and the faint sound of the T.V. wafted down the hall. From what I could hear, the news was on, but I paid it no mind as I made a b-line for the stairs and ran up them. The first door on the left was the bedroom, so I walked through. I tossed my phone and wallet on the bed and shrugged out of my suit jacket. Walking to the en suite, I stripped along the way, half-undressed by the time I reached the shower because of my long strides.

I turned on the hot water, my hand waiting under the spout as it warmed up. As soon as it was good enough, I took my hand back out and undid the button on my slacks, pulling down the zip then pushing the pants down. Stepping out of them, I reached back in and turned on the cold water just a little to even it up. I smiled in satisfaction as the water temp evened out and I quickly pulled off my boxers and socks.

Stepping under the water, I washed the day away, taking my time. I rolled my shoulders a few times as I turned and the water hit my shoulder and back muscles hard. I nearly moaned at the sensation, wincing as I rolled my shoulders one more time—I would give anything for a massage right now.

The phone rang but I ignored it; it was my signal to hurry the fuck up, so I grabbed the soap bar and rubbed it over my body, the hot water instantly washing it away. I then grabbed the soap bottle and poured some onto my hand to get rid of the strange feeling soap bars always left behind. Even if they smelled nice and the smell lasted longer on your skin, the strange texture it gave your skin was something I hated, and thankfully, the thick liquid soap didn't leave that behind.

I quickly washed my hair. I was just finishing up when my phone beeped, notifying me of a text. I smiled, and reached out to grab a towel after shutting off the water. I rubbed it over my chest and torso, my arms and legs, then wrapped it around my waist. I grabbed another and dried my hair a little, opting to leave it to dry on its own as long as it wasn't dripping.

I walked out, turning on the fan as I did, and grabbed my phone off the bed on my way to the wardrobe. I smiled at the message my girl had left me.

**Good luck tonight, baby. Xx**

My smile widened as I sent her back a quick kiss and thanks before tossing it back onto the bed. I let the towel drop and stepped forward. I'd had an idea of what suit I wanted to wear, and Lauren had confirmed it as a good choice. Not that that really mattered; even if she hadn't, I'd probably still have chosen it.

As much as Lauren liked to think she was a guiding influence in my life, she really wasn't. Lord knows how she'd react if she knew I had a girlfriend.

I took a deep breath and shook my head, muttering under my breath. I set the navy suit down on the bed, walked back and grabbed a crisp white shirt and a navy tie, then a pair of black socks and black boxers. I snapped on my silver Rolex.

I quickly got dressed, and in a further twenty minutes, I was out of the house and driving to the usual venue. It was pretty close to my house, which I liked, and was right in the heart of Seattle. I parked as close as I could, which unfortunately was not as close as I would have liked, but the place was already packed.

The cameras flashed around me as I approached and I smiled, stopping a few times to answer errant questions. There had been a buzz in the media about my book the past couple days, so I'd been expecting this.

I walked through the door of the venue as quickly as I could. I checked my phone as I walked through, and knew my parents, Em, and Rose were all already here. I wondered idly if Isabella was.

"I'm sorry I'm late," I whispered in Rose's ear as I made it to her. She gasped and turned around, glaring at me for surprising her before she wrapped her arms around me.

"Don't worry 'bout it; this whole thing is for you, you're allowed to be." She smiled at me, Emmett wrapping his arm around his wife's waist.

"Hey, bro," the man boomed and I chuckled as guests around us looked our way. My brother had always had a big presence without even meaning to—if it wasn't because of his physical size, it was because of that boomin' voice of his. He reached out and shook my hand. "I hear you had my Rosie busy this morning."

"Yeah, sorry about that," I said, glancing at the woman in question.

She snorted and waved me off. "It's fine. I was happy to help." She gave me a look, her eyes narrowed as she eyed me speculatively. "I got a call from Isabella this afternoon—she was, uh, quite obviously anxious."

I tried to feign nonchalance. "Oh?"

"Yeah," she said, raising an eyebrow, "said you'd, uh, invited her to the party—_this _party—and she had nothing to wear."

I smiled and looked away, taking a cocktail as the waiter came 'round. I took a sip before turning my attention back to my sister-in-law. "I find that hard to believe—she's a model for chrissakes."

"A model who is more of a recluse than a party animal," Rose replied. She eyed me for a moment again, suspicious and curious. "What are you up to?"

I sighed and downed the rest of the cocktail. "Nothing. I just wanted to thank her for her help today, and apologize for the short notice." That brought me to another topic, and I grasped at it. "Is the cover all done?"

She snorted and rolled her eyes in an arrogant gesture. She sent me a look, her raised eyebrow saying all it needed to, but she vocalized her thoughts anyway. "Seriously? You really need to ask?" She sighed. "Of course it is—your book is back on track for release tomorrow."

I rolled my eyes. "Just making sure," I drawled. I looked around. "Well, before I start socializing, where's Mom and Dad?" _and Isabella, _I wondered. I frowned slightly as I looked around and couldn't see her.

Em smirked. "Getting drinks," he said, nodding at the bar behind me. "And comin' up right now," he continued just as Mom's voice sounded behind me.

"Edward?"

I turned just in time for her to come up to me. My father hid his smirk as my mother, Esme, pinched my cheeks and kissed them. She giggled and wiped away the lipstick I could feel on my left cheek.

"Ma, seriously?" I groaned as she dipped her thumb in her mouth before rubbing harshly.

"Sorry, darling," she said, sending a fleeting excited smile my way. "I guess I got a little carried away."

I rolled my eyes and dipped down to hug her, kissing her cheek. "I'm glad you're here."

"Of course I'm here, where else would I be on my baby's big night?" she cooed and I bit back my irritated sigh. Although I loved my mother, she could be damned embarrassing.

Carlisle chuckled as his eyes met mine when I leaned back and let go of Mom. He came forward and shook my hand. "Congratulations, son," he said seriously, and I smiled at the bursting pride—it was written all over his face.

I smiled. "Thanks, Pop," I replied just as solemnly. "Now," I said, turning to face all of them. "I'm gonna start mixing. I'll see you all later on." I gave my dad another glance, and whispered, "Make sure Mom doesn't drink too much—you know how embarrassing she can get when she's sloshed."

My dad chuckled and shook his head, grasping my shoulder. "She don't need drink for that, Edward. Now, take it from your old man—your mother's job description is to love you, care for you, nurture you, and embarrass you."

I rolled my eyes. "Yeah," I griped sarcastically, waggling a finger at him before walking away.

I had no intention of getting on with the guests here. After doing an initial round, laughing at flat jokes and pretending to show interest in stories that just had no flavor or relevance, I gave up the pretenses. I looked around the room, trying to be discreet, as I wafted from one cluster of boring people to another, as I looked for Isabella. I frowned as I left the last group and couldn't find her.

I was thirsty for a drink after all the bland chit-chat, so I decided on a trip to the bar. I leaned on the counter and ordered the whiskey I loved from this place, then turned around to scope the room one more time. She still wasn't here, and I sighed, pushing back my disappointment.

The night was getting on, more so than I had realized at first. I was itching for the night to be fucking over already, and by nine-thirty I was concocting ways to sneak out. My eyes often wandered to the door, so when I saw the flash of red and pale leg, the hourglass figure and the beautiful brown curls, I sat up. Em was talking at me, but I wasn't paying attention anymore. I clasped his shoulder as I stood up.

Isabella was looking around, looking awfully lost. Feeling bad for her, I made my way to her as fast as I could. She smiled, relieved, when her eyes fell on me and she waved.

"Hi," I said as I stopped in front of her. I let my eyes quickly drink her in. "You look beautiful." She really did; the dress was a deep red with a slit up to the top of her thigh, her pale leg peeking through, her feet in red stilettos of the same color. The dress was tight on her, hugging her gorgeous, alluring figure, and I groaned inaudibly at the tug the sight of her caused in my loins.

She blushed. "Thanks," she said, taking another look around. "I'm sorry I'm late."

I smirked. "I'm starting to think that's just a part of you."

She giggled. "Yeah, definitely not just a one-time thing." She sighed, and looked pensively at me for a moment. "I hope I'm not too late."

I shook my head. "'Course not."

She smiled and nodded her head. "That's good. I hate to be a bother, but I really don't want to stay long—I-I guess that's part of why I showed late."

I nodded, understanding her completely. "Believe me, I know how you feel. I hate these things," I said, waving my hand in the general direction of the hoard of people, grouped into clusters of five or six at the most, dispersed throughout the room.

Her brow quirked, her nose wrinkling adorably. "Really?"

I nodded fervently. "_Really_. If it wasn't for the fact that I loved my job and, well, among other things, I kind of have to show my face to these things, I most definitely wouldn't be here. I much prefer quiet, peace—_home_. To be honest, I'm a bit of a loner."

She snorted. "I don't believe that."

"Seriously, I am," I said. "I'm much more comfortable alone—I even hate being around my family too much."

"Huh," she said disbelievingly. She shrugged her shoulders minutely. "I never would have pegged you as the type."

I blushed and looked away. "Yeah, well…" I looked back at her. "Thankfully, the party's just wrapping up. Are the paps still out there?"

She shook her head. "No, they're not."

I shrugged. "That's strange, but definitely welcome." I looked down at her and smiled. "If there was ever a time to leave, it would be now—we have no idea how long we have 'til they show again."

She frowned and worried her lip. "Are you sure?" she asked hesitantly.

I nodded. "Yeah, I'm positive."

"Well, uh," she said, looking down and around before she glanced back up at me. "Okay," she continued meekly.

I smiled warmly. "Don't worry." Internally, I was shocked—this model was a fucking enigma. I'd never heard of someone who didn't like attention, especially in her line of work. But it was a nice, refreshing surprise.

I quickly left her to say goodbye to my family, but I found they'd already left. I was a little miffed they hadn't said goodbye, but I shrugged it off, preferring to take the opportunity to slip out. I walked out the front door to find Bella standing on the edge of the street, leaning out and calling for a taxi. Frowning, I realized she mustn't have driven herself.

"Hey," I said as I reached her. "Why didn't you tell me you hadn't driven yourself?"

She shrugged and stopped what she was doing, crossing her arms over her chest as she looked up at me. "I don't know, you didn't ask and it wasn't really important."

I raised an eyebrow but said nothing for a second. "Why don't I drive you home?" I blurted out.

Her brow puckered. "Are you sure that's wise?"

I smiled, amused. "Why wouldn't it be?"

She shrugged again in a non-committal manner and I decided I wouldn't take no for an answer. Glancing around, I took her hand and walked her to my car. "I'm sorry it's parked so far away," I said and she smiled, waving me off.

"Don't worry about it," she replied, stopping as we finally reached my car.

I opened her door for her, smiling at the blush that bloomed on her cheeks as she smiled in thanks and climbed in. Closing the door, I quickly walked back to my side and got in, turning on the ignition. I peeled out of the parking lot and sped down the street.

The drive was quick and silent. I found myself trying to draw it out, but with no traffic there was no valid reason for me to. The street was dry, so safety reasons were out as well.

When we reached Bella's house, I got out quickly and came around to her door. She smiled in thanks and took my hand as I pulled her out. I closed the car door and locked it with the button, the lights flashing once.

I walked her up to her door, and once we reached it, she turned. "Thanks for driving me, and inviting me to the party," she said quietly. "I'm sorry I didn't arrive earlier."

I shook it off, waving her away. "Don't worry about it," I repeated to her. "Thank you for coming—both tonight and this morning. I'm sorry for any inconveniences it caused you."

She shrugged and shook her head. "It wasn't an inconvenience," she whispered, and just like that the air around and between us thickened.

We stood in silence for a second, both hesitant to end the night, it seemed. After a moment, Isabella cleared her throat and reached in her bag, bringing out her keys and opening the door. She pushed it open and took a step through.

"Wait," I blurted out, stepping toward her as she turned around. She gasped at my close proximity—we were standing so close our fronts were almost pressed against each other.

"Yes?" she breathed.

I swallowed, my eyes flickering between her lips and her eyes. We breathed in and out heavily and in sync before I groaned. _Fuck it, _I thought just as my lips crashed onto hers.

I swallowed her gasp, our hands grasping at each other. I walked her backwards, further into the house. I kicked the door closed and spun her quickly, pressing her back up against it without breaking the kiss. She gasped again, moaning as my hands clasped her thighs. I pulled them up and braced them around her hips. She wrapped her arms around my neck, one hand's fingers threading through my hair. She arched her back as I ground into her, grunting into the kiss before breaking it, both of us panting.

"Edward," she panted, and I groaned, opening my eyes to look at her. She was flushed, her lips swollen from our hungry kiss. Her beautiful chocolate eyes were even darker, but so fucking deep. My eyes flickered down to her lips again as her tongue flickered out of her mouth and moistened her lips. She swallowed, her voice hoarse when she said just two words. "Fuck me."

I groaned. "Your wish, my command, baby," I said, and she pulled me closer to her, slamming her lips on mine, taking control of this kiss. I groaned again, and when she bucked against me I sucked in a quick breath and ground against her. "Fuck, Bella. Bedroom?" I panted.

She shook her head. "No. Here."

I hummed, running my nose down her jaw, first the right side then the left before leaning back. I looked down between us and shifted her dress. She tightened her gorgeous legs around my waist, her hands wandering down to my pants as she fumbled, unbuttoning them and pushing them down in desperation. Not wanting to change a thing about our position. I kissed her deeply, my fingers brushing against her damp fucking panties before I grasped them and ripped them off. I smirked into the kiss as she gasped against my mouth, whimpering and bucking against me.

Her stiletto heels pushed my pants and boxers down as efficiently and quickly as she could and I groaned as she pulled me closer to her.

"Now," she growled in my ear, arching into me.

"Fuck," I hissed, unable to do anything but slam into her. Her gasp was strangled and she moaned long and hard as I pulled back, my hands on either side of her, bracing on the door panels. She pushed into me, swiveling her hips, and I groaned, grabbing onto her.

"Edward," she gasped, her hands in my hair then, tightening and pulling me into her. Her heels dug into my ass, grinding me against her as I stopped for a second and followed her lead, swiveling my hips before I pulled back and snapped back in, bending my knees just right to make her cry out and tighten around me in an instant. "Fuck! Yes!" she groaned, her face scrunched up in pleasure beautifully. I repeated the action and she darn-near sobbed my name, my balls tightening at the sound. "Close, close, close," she chanted as I ground against her, drilling into her at punishing speed. She reached between us and rubbed her clit in fierce circles, crying out, tightening around me and arching her back. "Edward!" she screamed.

I groaned, my damp forehead dropping to her shoulder. I gave just a few more thrusts into her before I came, unable to hold off any longer—the sensation of her wet pussy wrapped around me like a fucking vice was just too much.

We gasped in breaths, panting as we leaned against each other and the door, calming down gradually. "Holy shit," Bella whispered into my ear and I chuckled, still a little breathless.

"Yeah," I replied tactfully. I then leaned back and smirked at her. "You know, you shocked the ever living fuck out of me when you ran into the elevator. It was hard to stay professional when I wanted to bend you over and have you facing the mirror."

She laughed and kissed me. "Surprise," she whispered, biting her lip.

I chuckled breathlessly and kissed her. "I fucking love you," I whispered against her lips.

She smiled. "Love you, too," she said in a whisper before clearing her throat. "Rose really needed someone and no one was available. She'd been egging me on for a while to start modeling, but I wasn't sure. She called me last minute this morning, needing a major favor—said I was perfect," she raised her eyebrow at me and I laughed at the irony, "I had no idea it was for _your _book until I saw you in the elevator."

I smiled and kissed her. "Well, it was a very nice surprise. And fitting, really."

"Oh?" she inquired, dragging the single-syllable out.

I nodded. "Mm-hmm; it was _very_ fitting that my muse made it onto the cover of the book she inspired."

"Hmm," she hummed seductively, grinding against me. "Well, maybe you can write a sequel," she purred, licking up my jaw to kiss my ear. Her hands gripped the lapels of my jacket and she pulled me against her hard, her heels digging into my ass again. I hardened inside her.

I groaned and flexed, swiveling my hips again, rocking against her. I looked at her, leaning back just a little though. I took in the sight of her, disheveled, flushed, out of breath and thoroughly fucked. I wanted her again, and I would have her.

After all, I needed a whole lot more material I could use for the sequel. And my beautiful Bella, my girlfriend of just a few months and quite possibly the love of my life, was the best muse I'd ever had.

* * *

**So how was that? I really wanted to write one of those "all is not as it seems" kinda stories. Please let me know - did I succeed?**

**I hope you liked this as much as I loved writing this. I just really love this oneshot. And FYI, there's a PDF available should this be deleted or come under threat. Just review with your email and I'll send it.**

**Please review with your thoughts! I can't wait to hear them...**

**bexie25**


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